sinking like a siren
by afamiliarsmile
Summary: Complete. Hook/Ariel. He has to squint to see her, but when he does he's left with no desire to look at anything else. The pale light is striking when paired with the stunning scarlet of her hair. Then she moves, twists as her song crescendos, and he becomes fixated.


**Author's Note**: Well, this is my first OUAT fic and I'm not sure if I'm entirely happy with it. This is more of my lazy style of writing because I basically jump around far too much and a part of me thinks it's just because I felt I couldn't be bothered to write all the filler. So the writing in this is sort of sporadic and I apologize for that.

Hook/Ariel has a bit of a soft spot for me and, regardless of how I feel about this fic, I'm excited to finally be posting something for the pairing. If you're enjoyed the story and if you're feeling kind, please review!

_Disclaimer_: I don't own Once Upon a Time or any of the character etc etc. You know the drill.

* * *

It starts so gentle, so faint that for a moment, he cannot be sure of what he's hearing at all. The sound glides through the air, lingering with every gust of wind and with every crash of a wave. The smell of salt is heavy in the air; he can taste it on his tongue, can feel the cool spray against his cheeks. It's light and haunting and so terribly sad. He stands on deck, pressed so close to the edge as he strains to hear, move, to gather every last note of her bewitching melody before it fades entirely.

He almost doesn't see her among the black and deep blue that assaults him at every turn. Yet, thankfully, the stars are not alone on this night, and the moon casts an eerie glow on the dark shadows around him. He has to squint to see her, but when he does he's left with no desire to look at anything else. The pale light is striking when paired with the stunning scarlet of her hair. Then she moves, twists as her song crescendos, and he becomes fixated. The scales, because it had alluded him until that moment that she even had a tail at all, glint a shimmering green, or perhaps blue, a silver, he can't be certain. But when they catch the light, the sight is far more dazzling than any glittering gold he's ever seen.

"Captain?"

The voice catches him by surprise. It drowns out the final notes of her sweet song. He blinks and she's gone, leaving only rippling water in her wake.

"Smee," he turns to face the man, the red hat nearly as startling as the fair creature's hair. "I think we've just found ourselves a mermaid."

~.~.~.~

He doesn't see her again, yet they linger in those waters far longer than they should, drinking and laughing until they're all red in the face. None of them dare to speak a word, but he's certain they're thankful for the change of pace. His men have grown tired of his thirst for revenge, but their loyalty prevents them from doing a thing about it.

His men are loud and raucous and he stands a bit away from the inebriated lot. He peers through the spyglass and hopes for just one more sight of her before the light fades from them entirely. He sees nothing but the water and the deep orange and pink of the sky as the sun slips from view.

"Cap'n!" He feels a hand clap firmly against his shoulder and a bit of ale sloshes from a cup onto his boots. The gesture causes him to lose his grip, and the golden object tumbles from his hand before disappearing into the water below. He watches it fall until he can no longer see it under the surface, ignores the shuffling of boots as the man stumbles away from him with boisterous laughter and he suddenly finds their intoxication suffocating.

He steps away, jaw clenched and mood foul, entirely focused on retreating to the seclusion he's promised below deck. He's nearly there when, among the drunken shouts and slurred songs, he hears the gentle thud and splash. He turns just to see her eyes widen before she pushes away from the boat and dives back to the depths below. He's quick, but she moves faster and when he finds himself leaning over the edge yet again he's met only with the last glance of her tail vanishing with a quick flick.

When he looks down he finds a dripping spyglass at his feet.

~.~.~.~

Smee becomes, arguably, more enraptured than he does with the curious mermaid. He spins his tales and tells his stories of all the things he's been told about the creatures. He speaks of their tears and their scales and the magic each possesses. He's unrelenting with his fascination, unabashed by his lust to see such a being up close. He sighs and tells the crew about their lovely melodies, so beautiful that men have lost ships to their siren calls. They all joke, shove against each other, and boast about who will be the one to secure a kiss from such a maiden.

"What about you, Captain?" Smee calls to him and pulls at the red hat slumped over. "Do you think we'll see more of our charming friend?"

"Who can say?" he replies stiffly, eyes focused entirely on the map before him. "We'll find ourselves on land soon enough. Our charming friend cannot follow us there."

His voice is gruff, curt, and dismissive and they turn away from him, quick to recognize their captain's sudden shift in mood. The talk of mermaids is left behind, dropped entirely before they drive him further into anger.

"Not unless she grows a pretty pair of legs," Smee chuckles before settling back and rubbing a smudge of dirt from his cheek.

"Imagine that," he says dryly.

~.~.~.~

"You're a long way from home," he calls out to her from shore, staring down at the metal hook as he wipes off a bit of grime that has marred the surface. He catches her off guard, he notices dully with a smirk, as he watches her duck quickly behind the rock she clings to. She's so close to shore it's almost unsettling; the water is so shallow that even with being pressed so close to rock he can almost make out every glittering scale. "There's no use hiding, love, you've already been caught. I must say I'm flattered that you've followed me so far."

"I wasn't following you," she squeaks, moving just slightly so that he can see her peaking past her hiding place.

"Say what you will, darling," he chuckles before dropping his arm and peering toward her. "But your leering is hardly discrete."

She huffs and her lips part and shut as if she trying to come up with some witty retort, yet she's left with nothing. Instead she arches a single brow and pushes away from the rock, dipping back into the water gracefully, her tail twisting in a captivating dance before she slips from view entirely. He chuckles and it sounds like a breath of disbelief. His legs carry him farther until he moves closer to the spot where she had vanished; the sea brushes against top of his boots. He can't quite grasp how she managed to disappear so quickly with the water so clear. He's nearly to the rock before he thinks better of it and turns away, wading through the water slowly.

"Now who's following who?" her voice causes him to halt and when he turns back she's pressed against the rock again, a smile spread across her face.

"Aye, that would be me," he agrees, eyes focused on her tail as it moves just beneath the surface. "And what shall I call the beauty that has captured me so?"

She flushes, falling against the rock for a moment, caught off guard. "Ariel," she says gently. "My name is Ariel."

~.~.~.~

He tells her his name is Eric.

The lie slips so easily. He's cheated and he's stolen many things in his lifetime—he's a pirate after all—and the lie happens so quickly that he hardly has a moment to realize what he's done. And it's strange that he feels almost ashamed of the lie, because her face had lit up and she had tested the name on her own lips with that enchanting smile of hers and he almost wanted that lie to be true. Yet, it's his father's name that he gives her, a name that hardly ever meant much to him as a boy, even less to him now, but it's the first that comes to mind and it's the name he gives.

"Eric," she had said with a giggle before she had swam closer until she was just before him and her hand had reached out to brush against the gold rings around his fingers. "I've never been so close to a human before."

Her voice had been scarcely a whisper, as if she had hardly been able to believe it herself.

She had called him a prince, had smiled and laughed as her fingers brushed against each ring. He hardly knew if she noticed his hook at all as she turned his hand over in between both of her own, though her eyes were focused on his legs. He hadn't been able to correct her before his crew had called to him from shore and she had bolted so quickly until for a moment he doubted if she had ever been there at all.

"There's a storm coming, Captain," Smee calls from somewhere behind him and he is forced to look away from the tempering waters below to face the man. "It might be best to head below deck."

"In a moment," he sighs before glancing back out at the water and for a moment he thinks he sees a flash of red hair among the waves, maybe even a hint of green scales, before the sight is gone completely.

~.~.~.~

Sometimes he thinks he may catch glimpses of her among the waves. There will be startling reds and greens mixed in with the deep blues, and the contrast is striking. He'll peer over the edge, see if he can spot her again in the water directly below. His crew makes snide remarks about his sudden infatuation, make harmless stabs at that moment when they had docked. They haughtily snicker about their captain being under a mermaid's spell until he gives them a threatening look and they all settle into silence. Yet, there is some truth in it. He searches for her each day, wonders if she'll approach him up close as she did that day that seems so long ago now.

Occasionally he'll stumble upon colorful scales and bits of seashell and, somehow, he knows she's leaving them for him to find. They're always in the same place, always left damp as if taken from the water just moments ago. Yet, she doesn't surface for him again.

They're headed for land again. He suspects they'll reach it within a couple of days and, foolishly, he hopes.

~.~.~.~

"You haven't seen your mermaid for a couple of days, have you, Captain?" Smee calls from across the dock as the crew move about loading the ship. He stands further away, straining to see her somewhere along the surface.

"She probably found another sailor to capture and kill," another calls from the boat with a boisterous laugh. "Our Captain here is too smart to fall for those siren tricks."

There's a collective cheer among the men, agreeing to the declaration with laughter and loud oaths of their own. But he pairs very little attention to the clamoring lot because, for just a moment, he thinks he can see a bit of red hair in the water near the shore, but it's secluded by a few scatted piles of stone. He squints and he's sure it's her and he's gripped with a fleeting second of terror because if she's so close to shore then surely she's trapped and he's heard tales of mermaids who wash up on shore and how little they can survive if away from the sea for too long.

"Or maybe not," he hears Smee sigh woefully from the dock. "Captain, it'd probably be best if you stayed back!"

He doesn't heed the warning and when he reaches the bit of beach he's startled to find her lying in a heap, hair drying in curls with dried salt on her back, completely bare. But the most startling of all is the pair of legs in place of the tail he's grown so used to seeing.

~.~.~.~

Her nails dig into his arms as she frantically tries to steady herself on her new limbs. Her eyes are wide with disbelief, with wonder, with such joy. Her legs don't move the way she wants them to and, though it frustrates her, she's determined to steady herself, to fight the trembling reluctance. His coat hangs limply on her, slipping to hang off her shoulders. The hem falls past her thighs and the sleeves have been rolled up but he can still barely see her fingers. He takes a step away from her and she takes an unsteady step forward and she's grinning and eagerly releasing her grip on his arm. The success is short lived and she collapses into him, looking disgruntled for a moment before it is shadowed by a look of triumph. It was her first step alone and, for her, that is a victory.

"I think that will be all for today, love," he chuckles before helping her stand upright again. She tries to pull away from him, stumbling as she does, shaking her head and continuously trying to push against him in a feeble attempt to steady herself without his help.

"She seems determined," Smee remarks from a few feet away. "She'll walk by the end of the night if she has her way."

"But she's on my ship and I would rather not be on deck when the storm hits."

She twists around and he has to struggle to keep her in his arms before she falls to the ground and those wide eyes of hers are suddenly trained on the sky above their heads. The clouds are dark and flashes of light spatter across the grey every couple of seconds. It was as if she had forgotten the sky was there at all and he finds her sudden fascination a little troubling as the thunder cracks and the waves push against the ship.

His arms slip around her and the moment her legs are in the air she begins to push at his shoulders, to beat at his chest in hopes that he might place her back on the ground. It isn't until, chuckling, he glances at her face that he can see her lips forming words he cannot hear. She pushes against him and chokes on words she cannot say and her eyes well with tears as her hands still their assault and come to rest against her throat. The smile fades from his face as he watches her and it only occurs to him then this whole time she hasn't remained silent by choice.

~.~.~.~

She cannot speak, but he finds ways to communicate with her, and he begins to find that with each passing day he finds it easier to read her.

The way her brow creases when she's frustrated, the subtle way she wrinkles her nose when she's agitated, the way her jaw clenches and the way her lips pucker slightly when she's done something mischievous, the way a corner of her lips curls up when she thinks of the sea, and the way her eyes seem to widen, the way her lips part and curl into a smile when she looks at him.

But perhaps it's the easiest to decipher what she's thinking the moment she pulls away from him, steps backward, lips parted, jaw slack, and eyes blazing before she turns and runs, putting as much distance between the two of them as she can.

"What did I say?" Smee asks after the moment has passed, uneasily looking at the place she once stood.

"My name."

~.~.~.~

She keeps her distance. He stays on deck with his crew bustling around him, eager for distractions that they bring. Yet his mind wanders to her below, rummaging through his things with such curiosity that he finds it surreal. She keeps space between them, turning and fleeing whenever she catches sight of him.

It isn't until nightfall after her third night of avoidance that she finally approaches.

She's wearing a dress he recognizes, one that he had tucked away with all of the rest of Milah's things. It's old, worn and does little for Ariel now, long and dragging at the hem where it rests tattered. She has to lift the skirts to walk without tripping.

He doesn't say a word in greeting, just watches as she moves closer until she's standing in front of him. She watches him, just as intently before glancing out at the sea. The night is calm. The sky is clear and the water is still.

She smiles, a sad little gesture.

She leans against the rails and just watches.

He can't force himself to move away.

~.~.~.~

Sometimes he thinks he can see his name brush across her lips. His real one, not the one he had grown accustomed to hearing from her. It's in those moments when he watches her frown, watches her eyes lower and her shoulders slump in defeat, that he realizes he may never hear her use his true name. He had only let lies grace his lips when they spoke.

"She's lonely, Captain," Smee tells him one night while she leans dangerously over the railing, peering into the sea below. "She longs for the sea."

He knows Smee is right; he knows with absolute certainty that he's right. There's a light that he sees when she watches the waves crash against the ship. Sometimes she sighs and rests her head on her arms and her eyes never leave the water. He often finds himself wondering if perhaps she can hear what the others on board cannot. Among the cry of the gulls, the boisterous roar of the crew, she'll sit and smile, her eyes cast down and her fingers brush against her legs. He imagines that maybe she's picturing a tail instead.

But then her smile will fade and she'll pull her hand back and she'll wiggle her toes.

But he knows.

She longs for the sea as it desperately seem to long for her.

~.~.~.~

There are some days, when the sun is bright and the air is warm, where she moves to the center of the ship, her eyes cast up, cheeks flushed and lips smiling. She'll twirl with her arms spread out and her long skirts shift and spin around her.

He can imagine her laugh, can remember it from a memory that appears so distant now.

"Ariel," he'll call out to her and she'll turn and her smile will be so bright that he can fool himself into believing that that she's happy, truly happy. She'll make her way to him, with such grace that he feels transfixed and he can hardly believe that she couldn't walk only a short time ago. But she draws him to her, leading him with his hand clasped in hers and she coaxes him into dancing with her.

And he thinks he may laugh enough for the both of them.

~.~.~.~

He doesn't apologize to her. There are some moments when she watches him so intently with narrowed eyes and pursued lips and somehow he knows exactly what she's waiting to hear. Yet he offers her no words to quell her anger, because even now with her warm smiles, he knows her temper is simmering and he's constantly waiting for the moment when it may implode.

"We'll be coming to shore soon," he tells her early one morning. The sky is still colored in dark hues, the beginnings of light scarcely visible in the east.

She nods in response, running her fingers across the various shells she discovered among his things. She's smiling when she picks one up, and even now, with hardly any light at all, he can see how it shines. There are shells and scales, coral and knotted net, and even a small pearl tucked away in the small bag in her lap. He knows she recognizes every single one as she holds them up for him to see.

~.~.~.~

She thrives on land, brought away from the sea and among all the crowds of people. She smiles and nods with such enthusiasm and she drifts between groups with such ease. Her hand is small clasped within his own, but her grip is firm and insistent. She pulls him back and forth, eyes wide with such excitement with each new trinket found. She hardly notices when he pulls away and leaves her with Smee for company.

It isn't until later when he approaches and the little mermaid before him has her arms crossed over her chest and her jaw is clenched and he has to keep himself from grinning. Her displeasure has always been a source of humor, especially now. She arches a single brow and he does chuckle then because her demand for an explanation is so slight, yet so persistent.

She jumps at him with joy when he holds up a new dress and when she wraps her arms around him, face nestled into his shoulder, he knows it will be that more difficult when he has to let her go.

~.~.~.~

"She's doing it again, Captain," Smee's voice calls out, piercing the silence that had settled over the crew. He doesn't need to hear further explanation but when his eyes finally land on that red cap, he asks all the same.

When he makes his way out to the group of men that had gathered around her, they all turn to face their captain with panic and fear. None of them had ever been well adjusted to the tears of a woman.

"Ariel," he calls out to her tentatively and he slowly approaches her with equal hesitance. "Ariel, love, look at me please."

It isn't until he gets closer that he can see that she's trembling. Her shoulders shake and she lurches forward and buries her face in her hands. Her cheeks are wet and the sleeves of her dress are damp. She's not crying, he realizes with a knot forming deep in his stomach. She's sobbing.

"What happened?" he directs the question to Smee but the answer comes from somewhere to his left.

"I think she was trying to sing."

"Ariel," he tries again, moving closer to her still. She pulls away from him the moment he reaches out to touch her. It takes some coaxing and many hushed words of comfort on his part, but eventually she quiets down long enough for him to pull her to him. Her arms lock behind his neck and he can feel her tears wet against his face. "You're alright. It's alright."

~.~.~.~

She doesn't go near the water. She leans over far enough to feel the spray on her face, but she never tries to go in the water. He wonders if it'd be too painful for her, if she could stand it. But that doesn't explain the fear he can see wash over her. He often thinks she can hear what he can't, but sometimes he suspects she can see what he can't.

She stares at her skin in horror for reasons he cannot find.

There are welts there on her skin, red and raw and he can see flakes of her own blood beneath her nails. She moves to scratch at the skin there and he steps forward to grab her wrist before she can do anymore damage. When she looks up to meet his gaze, she looks terrified and there's a desperation there that startles him.

"Stop."

She nods like she understands but he doesn't expect her to listen.

~.~.~.~

They dock at a nearby port far sooner than he had initially intended. He's eager for distance, anything to keep her occupied and to keep her from the horrors within her own mind. He doesn't know how to fight what he can't see.

His crew branches off and away from them to get a drink. He steps back and brings her to the shops that had once brought her such joy in other places. She scarcely sees him, hardly sees the necklaces and bracelets and dresses. She doesn't react to any of it. Until she's presented with a necklace of intricately linked shells and she jerks away from it as if she's in pain.

He isn't sure what to say when she pulls away from him too.

~.~.~.~

"Ariel, I can't help you if you don't let me," he sighs and reaches out to brush a red curl out of her face. She hardly reacts; her eyes are fixed on her ankles. When she shifts he can see all the white bandages stained with red.

He finds himself wishing, and not for the first time, that he may catch a glimpse of what she sees. Her terrified gaze is what frightens him the most.

"Sweetheart, look at me. Please."

He's startled when she actually listens. Her eyes are fierce and insistent and he longs to know what it is she wishes to say.

She swallows once and her gaze drops. She reaches out and her hand is shaking when she brushes her fingers against his cheek, he can feel it trembling there as her fingers run down to his jaw.

Her lips part and she pulls back abruptly and her hand falls limply to her lap.

"Ariel."

She doesn't acknowledge him again.

~.~.~.~

"She's sick," he tells Smee on deck while she sleeps, tucked away from the rest of the crew.

The weight of his declaration hangs in the air and settles around them. He only vocalizes what the rest of the crew is thinking. They move around him in silence, complacent and hesitant, eager to please and fearful to strike his temper. He hasn't seen them behave in such a manner since Milah. The similarities of their behavior are eerie because he has yet to fully grasp the severity of what it could mean.

"Is she dying?" the man asks from beside him, voice small and tired.

"I don't know," he tells him honestly and Smee raises his hand to remove the red hat from his head.

The fact that he doesn't know may be the most frightening of all.

~.~.~.~

He tries to talk enough for the both of them, anything to fill the silence that clings to every moment he spends with her. She's grown pale, her hair dull, and her eyes swollen, dark circles marring the skin there. The only color he sees are the red welts and blue dress, and he hates that even her eyes seem lifeless.

"What can I do?" he asks her and reaches forward to hold her hand. He's startled by how cold she feels. She covers his hand with his own and she squeezes.

When she lets him go he finds a small shell in his hand. When he looks up she's smiling.

~.~.~.~

They dock again and as he helps her to land, he makes promises of a prolonged stay. They won't leave until she's healthy again, until she's better, he tells her. She smiles and she nods and he knows she's thankful but the possibility of her recovery seems so slim and he can't stand to think of it.

"Things will be better," he tells her and things are settled. He isn't sure he even believes his own words.

~.~.~.~

She pulls at lose strings in her dress and braids her hair with trembling fingers. She falls asleep when he holds her and strokes her hair until he drifts off himself. When he wakes, she watches him so intently that he can't comprehend what could warrant such a look. She treats him as if he may be the one so fragile.

His company is all she craves and her health is all he feels he needs. She lights up with every touch and every smile he offers. He wants to keep her smiling, to keep her there with him as long as he may be able.

He fears that won't be very long at all.

~.~.~.~

She stirs in the night, shifting and stirring so violently, that it wakes him, pulls him out of his sleep so fiercely that he feels he's been burned. She's twisted in the sheets, her features pinched in agony as her hands blindly reach toward her legs. When she pulls them away her fingers are stained a deep crimson. He's at her side in an instant, but as he draws closer he finds the wound to be self-inflicted and she pulls away from him again and again to swipe at her legs.

She pushes against him, fists pounding against his chest. He hums into her ear, a haunted tune that he first heard from her own lips and the sound seems to settle around her, and her eyes are wide and she falls against him in silent defeat.

He stays with her until she falls asleep with his shirt balled in her fists.

They're running out of time.

~.~.~.~

"Have you seen anything like this before?" he asks Smee as they watch her in a fitful sleep.

"No, Captain," he admits after a pause. "I've never heard word of a mermaid out of water at all."

"She's running out of time, Smee."

"I think she knows. We may not, but she seems aware of what's happening to her."

She wakes with a jolt and the conversation falls to a halt.

~.~.~.~

"I don't know how to help you," he sighs and brushes her hair out of her eyes. Her skin is still cold and it's clammy. He places his head to her face with a light touch. She only reaches up to grab his hand and she smiles. She pulls at his hand until he acknowledges what she wants, pulls her up until she's sitting.

Her hand reaches up to stroke his cheek with a tired smile. Her lips part and he's certain he can read his name there. Her eyes fall shut, as if she can barely stand to keep them open. He feels as if she sits there in that position for a long time. He may have suspected the worst had he not seen the steady rise and fall of her chest. Her hand is still on his cheek and her eyes flutter open again and it's the brightest he's seen her eyes in a long time.

"Ariel—"

He isn't given the chance to say more because she's already leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.

~.~.~.~

"I spoke with someone in town," Smee says as she approaches. "They say it's magic."

"Her very existence rests in magic," he snarls. "Don't be an idiot."

"No, a curse, Captain. She can't speak. She gave her voice for legs."

"But that doesn't explain why she's in this state now."

Smee remains silent, merely watches Killian with sad eyes and a defeated shrug. It isn't enough, not nearly enough but it's a start. He just fears that it won't be nearly enough.

"She doesn't have time."

~.~.~.~

She grows more distant with each passing day and when he reaches for her, she pulls back as if she never knew him at all. He doesn't speak of that night and she, with all manners of speech renounced, doesn't approach the subject. He is no stranger to a woman scorned; he's met many throughout his journeys sailing the seas. Yet he had always expected anger and veiled threats hurled his way with every insult imaginable in between.

Ariel is something entirely different, unknown, and when she looks at him with such hurt and despair, he feels all of it.

But he still doesn't speak of it.

He spends his nights with his eyes fixed on his arm and on the name he won't soon forget.

_Milah._

~.~.~.~

Word reaches him of a women locked away, held tight by the reigning queen. He hears whispers of a weapon he had hardly believed could have existed. Revenge is nearly within his grasp and months ago he would have left without a second thought. Opportunities like this were rare and seldom to be seen again.

But he hesitates.

He rationalizes that she doesn't have long and that he should be with her when she fades from him completely. But he also feels the guilt gnawing at him every moment when he looks at her. She doesn't meet his gaze now. She cringes if he moves near her now.

Her legs are marred from her own destruction and he doesn't know how much longer he can stand to watch her deteriorate before him.

~.~.~.~

Sometimes he thinks she's speaking to him and, though silly as it seems now, it's a new thing for her to reach out in that way. He watches her as she sits and mouths words that he cannot hear. Some seem simple enough to decipher but she offers nothing more than her mouthed words and hesitant glances. But all he can really see is that she's trying again.

One night he thinks he can make out three particular words.

He doesn't allow himself to think of it for long.

He can't.

~.~.~.~

She wakes him from his sleep one morning and he's startled by her sudden energy. It's like she doesn't seem sick at all, as if it never happened at all. She pulls him out of bed and he follows her in a haze. She's walking and she's acting so calm it frightens him. When she finally does manage to get him outside, he's greeted with the smiling face of Smee and the loud excitement of his crew.

"Ariel seems to think it's time we get you back out to sea."

He should have expected something was wrong, but all he can see is that she's well, even if she does cringe with every step.

It takes them well into the day to ready the ship. He watches her the whole time, searching for any signs of whatever sickness she had suffered from for so long. He doesn't find it. Slowly, he begins to watch her less, until it's time for them to leave and the sun is beginning to sink in the west.

He only spots her when he sees a flash of her red hair. She glances back at him and smiles and he moves to walk toward her, uncertain why she's standing on the shore, on the wet sand as the water pulls back only to rush forward, moving closer to her with each passing moment. She had been so fearful to be so close to the sea before now.

As he moves closer he can see her lips moving, can see the wet lines running down her cheeks.

He strains to make out the words she's trying to say so desperately but he can only decipher his name.

Then he blinks and she isn't standing there. Water covers the space she had previously occupied and when it pulls back the footprints she left are barely visible now.

"Ariel!" he calls after her, breaking out into a run until he's left standing where he had seen her moments ago. His eyes scan the waves and he catches the flash of a fin. "Ariel!"

The fin vanishes, the scales no longer visible beneath the water but after a pause she surfaces and she smiles. He can no longer tell if she's crying but her smile is strained.

"Ariel!" He calls out to her again but she only shakes her head and slips back beneath the surface.

He stands there watching the water as the sky grows darker around him. He can hear his crew calling out to him, can hear them approach but he pays them no attention.

He knows now what she had said before she had been taken back out to the sea.

His name, yes, and the three words he hadn't wanted to admit to himself that he understood.

_I love you._


End file.
